


Skin by Moonlight

by pairatime



Series: Apartment series [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-10
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-14 12:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/837001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pairatime/pseuds/pairatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver returns to a special place for him and Tommy and lets himself be seen in a way he couldn’t anywhere else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin by Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> For lj's smallfandomfest round 13: Arrow (tv); Oliver/Tommy; What did Tommy have to say when he say Oliver's scars?

“You’ve kept it; this whole time…I hadn’t expected that.”

“And yet you came here,” Tommy told his best friend as he joined him at the window overlooking Starling City.

The sun had long since set, taking its luminous glow with it, but the city was still brightly lit, from office and apartment building, clubs to cars, stores and homes. The city was still alive and full of life. “I needed to see this again, I thought I’d have to bribe my way past some new couple that lived here but I needed…I needed to see the city.” Oliver answered as best he could, his hand pressed to the glass as if he could feel the city through it.

“It’s changed, grown, but the city’s still here. And it will always be here,” Tommy said, reaching over slowly, resting a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “and it’s not the only thing,” he added with a whisper.

“I know, I just didn’t expect…of course why wouldn’t you keep it? I bet you’ve had more than a few visitors up here since I died, not that I can blame you I did die after-” Oliver started going on until Tommy jabbed him in the shoulder, much to his own discomfort.

“Holy crap, what did you eat on the island, lead?” Tommy complained, rubbing the hand he had used to prod Oliver. “And other than the maid once a week this is the first time anyone other than me had been up here since you left, and quit saying you died.”

“Why’d you keep it Tommy? It was five years. One year I get but five?” Oliver asked finally turning away from the window and toward the rest of the apartment.

It was an average, if upscale, furnished apartment from the a sunken living room with it’s chocolate colored leather sofa and entertainment stand to the kitchen with a complete set of cookware that had never seen use, and finally, the single spacious bedroom with it’s extra large queen size bed. “Why?” Oliver asked again.

Tommy didn’t answer the question right away; he let his eyes slowly drift from Oliver to the apartment and back to Oliver again before speaking, “Out there, in the real world, we’re Oliver Queen and Tommy Merlyn, the heirs to the two of the largest fortunes Starling City has ever seen, playboys, club hoppers and the guys you want at a party,” Tommy told Oliver, drawing closer until they were almost nose to nose, “but here, and only here, we’re Tommy and Oliver, we’re us. And I couldn’t let that go, not when I though I’d lost you” Tommy finished, leaning into Oliver, hesitantly, their lips barely brushing one another before pulling back.

But Tommy hadn’t pulled back far before Oliver was using his hand to pull Tommy back in toward him, mashing their lips and teeth together, and then tongues were re-exploring each other’s mouths, relearning every tooth and taste.

The pair went stumbling down the step and into the sofa in a tangle of limbs, each starting to strip the other without breaking the kiss, and then Tommy froze, ending the kiss abruptly making Oliver tensed in turn, “Tommy?”

Tommy answered by looking Oliver in the eyes as his hand slowly resumed it’s journey under Oliver’s shirt and up Oliver’s chest, stopping each time his finger tips felt the raised and rough skin of another scar, “Oliver?” he whispered, his voice filled with fear, pain and confusion.

“Just some tokens from the island, they’re-” Oliver answered pulling back even as Tommy pushed forward pining him between his lover and the arm of the sofa.

“Don’t say nothing,” Tommy said cutting him off, “I can feel them and they aren’t-” only to cut himself as he felt the largest of the scars on Oliver’s right shoulder, “tell me you’re alive, tell me you’re real. Just tell me Ollie,” he demanded as he curled in closer to the other man.

Oliver was quite for a long moment, just looking at Tommy, wrapping his arms around his dark haired friend, running a hand through those locks, “I’m alive,” he whispered at last. “I’m alive and I’m here and I don’t plan on going anywhere Tommy,” He added, giving Tommy’s forehead a light kiss. “I promise.”

The next several minutes slowly ticked by as Oliver held Tommy and Tommy tried to reconcile the Oliver of his memory with the man he felt under him even as he felt the slow steady rise and fall of Oliver’s chest while hearing, feeling, the even steady pulsing of Oliver’s heart beat.

Until Tommy broke the silence, “show me,” he said barely louder then a whisper.

“What?” Oliver asked confused and unsure what Tommy meant.

“The scars, the muscles and skin, it feels so different,” Tommy said looking up to meet Oliver’s eyes before explaining more, “I used to be able to picture any part of you whenever I closed my eyes, I knew everything my hand was touching without looking but…” he tailed off, his hand brushing over another scar.

“But now you can’t,” Oliver completed for him before going on, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for you, for anyone to see that part of me, I’ve…I don’t want you looking at me and seeing them. I want you to see me Tommy.”

“That’s why I have to see them Ollie, they’re part of you now every bit as much as the different hair cut and muscles and man did you get buff, I mean you weren’t in bad shape before but have you felt your pecs?” Tommy said with a light smile, squeezing Oliver’s left chest muscle.

“Being alone on an island will do wonders for your fitness, I’d recommend it to you but well I don’t hate you,” Oliver joked back as he slide out from under Tommy and off the sofa, taking a step back toward the windows. 

“Well I’m glad you don’t hate me,” Tommy said back, his smile brighter, even as he lost physical contact with Oliver. “Because I don’t hate you either.”

“I could never…you tell no one, not my mother, sister, anyone. You don’t talk about a _friend_ to your doctor to learn about scars, nothing,” Oliver requested, looking over his shoulder at Tommy, “Promise me,” he asked, his voice closer to begging then Tommy had ever heard it.

“You have it, I won’t tell a soul. Nothing that happens in this apartment is anyone’s business but ours, it never has been. That will never change,” Tommy told Oliver, clear and heartfelt as he stood from the sofa.

Oliver didn’t answer with words. Looking back toward the window he slowly reached across and grabbed the bottom of his shirt before slowly pulling it up, pulling it off inch by inch.

Tommy swallowed hard and dug his fingers into his palm at the first sight of the myriad of marks and old wounds that covered Oliver’s back. Then he let out a breath and stepped forward touching the largest of them on Oliver’s shoulder, “Turn around,” he whispered, the request almost lost in the sound of Oliver’s shirt hitting the floor.

“Tommy-“

“Turn around,” Tommy repeated with more force, lightly kissing the small of Oliver’s neck while lightly pulling him round by the shoulder, “I want, need, to see all of you.”

Oliver turned the rest of the way around and froze, his breath caught in his throat at the naked need in Tommy’s eyes as he watched his lover reach forward and start tracing his way around Oliver’s chest, “Tom-“

“Ssshhhh,” Tommy answered, pulling Oliver back to the sofa before leaning in closer, intent on relearning every inch of Oliver’s skin all over again.

The end.


End file.
